


Delinquency

by rae_aaah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Barebacking, M/M, Pool Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_aaah/pseuds/rae_aaah
Summary: The only reason Lance knows he's got a wild streak is because Keith brings it out in him.Or the time that they fucked in Iverson's heated pool and almost got caught.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 294





	Delinquency

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to drawmebabyblue uwu for giving me the big horny energy to write this <3

Lance is nodding off when he hears a soft _pink!_ against the glass of his window. The sound draws him back to wakefulness, and he looks at the clock. It’s almost one in the morning, and there’s only one person stupid enough to bother him this late. 

There’s another tap to the glass and Lance gets up, goes over to his window. When he looks out, there stands Keith—ripped jeans and high tops and an actual leather jacket that creaks every time he moves. 

The collar of that jacket smells like sweet sweat, earthy and primal and, every single time, without fail, Lance gets drunk off of it when he huddles close to Keith's throat. That smell gets on everything it touches as it touches him and Lance has spent countless nights fucking his fist, smelling Keith everywhere.

Lance unlatches his window, shivering as the cold that drifts in from the outside. “Are you fucking crazy?” he hisses, crosses his arms over his chest. 

“No,” Keith answers, voice low and steady. “Come out with me,” he says, and Lance can only see the glow of his face by the light of the moon. The rest of him is darkened with shadows cast by the bushes and trees around Lance’s house.

“It’s one in the morning, Keith! I have a test tomorrow!” he says as he leans over the edge. 

Keith just shrugs. “You were probably falling asleep,” he says, tossing the pebbles up and down in his palm. Even from up here, Lance can hear that they clink softly against each other. “Come on, don’t be a chicken,” Keith goads and he knows the exact words to use to spur Lance into putting on his shoes and hiking his legs over the sill and onto the carport. 

He climbs down the lattice (reinforced a few months ago when he and Keith started doing _ this— _whatever this is), making sure to not crush any night blooming flowers along the way. 

When his feet touch the ground, Keith is suddenly there, pressing him up against the vines, pressing into him, pressing his mouth against Lance’s own. 

“Hey,” Keith says, voice gruff. Shivers run up and down Lance’s arms that have nothing to do with the cold. “Let’s go, delinquent,” he says, right before nipping at Lance’s mouth again, pulls away. Takes Lance’s hand in his and drags Lance along. 

“Delin_— _ you should be talking!’ he hisses, but his hand grips at Keith’s tighter, hanging on for dear life. He doesn’t want to stumble in the dark, that’s all. 

"Shh, you don't want to wake the whole neighborhood, do you?" Keith quips, teeth a bright flash in the dark.

"I'm sorry my voice isn't as low as yours," he sasses but drops his volume the best he can.

"I didn't think you thought I had such a deep and sexy voice," Keith says, face turned away, but his hand is burning hot against his own.

"That's not what I said," he fires back, but squeezes at Keith's hand harder, slips his fingers in-between.

Keith takes him out of his backyard, traverses through several others before leading him deeper into the dark. They walk for a good ten minutes, long enough that Lance is starting to feel it in his legs. The houses are more spread out here, bigger and more expensive. He’s surprised that they haven’t tripped any security alarms.

"Hop the fence," Keith tells him after pushing through some very nicely trimmed bushes. 

Lance sputters. "I can't!" And he's back to almost shouting.

Keith gives him a firm look. He kneels and it takes a moment for Lance to register his cupped hands waiting to boost Lance over the fence. “Oh my god,” he hisses, steps into the stirrup of Keith’s palms and lifts himself up over the edge of the fence. He drops onto the other side, landing with a sharp sting in both his feet, and starts a little when Keith thumps right next to him. 

Lance looks around and sees that he’s on Principal Iverson’s property. The heated pool he goes on and on about at school steams gently in the middle of the yard. He looks back at Keith, but squeezes his eyes shut when he sees him stripping off his shirt.

“What are you doing!?” he says and slaps his hands over his eyes for good measure. He hears a sharp clink of metal and he peeks out from behind his fingers, face growing hot in his palms when he sees Keith shimmy out of his jeans. 

“It’ll be fun,” Keith says, lifting his arm to brace himself on Lance’s shoulder as he toes out of his shoes.

When he straightens, Lance’s eyes roam over the bright skin of his chest and stomach, to the dark line of hair stretching from under his navel, down, into the confines of his boxer briefs. 

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” and Keith’s voice rolls through him, snapping his attention back. “Take off your clothes,” he urges, already stepping into Lance’s space, his hands wild, greedy things, as they grip the hem of Lance’s shirt. He quickly tugs it over Lance’s head and drops it onto the pile of his own clothes. The backs of Keith’s knuckles brush against his stomach, ready to push Lance’s sweats down, but Lance draws his hips back, a small moan slipping out of his mouth.

“Keith, please, I,” and he’s gripping at Keith’s wrists to stop him. As he curls his fingers, he can feel how hard Keith’s pulse is hammering right under the paper-thin barrier of his skin. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t take too long, though,” he murmurs, leaning in and placing a kiss to the side of Lance’s head, another, at the top of his ear. “I get lonely without you,” and he’s pulling away, taking his heat with him.

Lance watches as he slips into the pool, the muscles in his back flexing. He sits on the jut of short stairs under the water, back to Lance, and waits. Lance walks up to the edge of the pool, quickly tugging on the string that holds up his pants. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he says as he quickly pushes down his sweats, toeing out of his shoes. 

He puts his feet in the water, wades out to where Keith is. He bends at the waist and sits next to him. His senses are dialed up to the max, waiting for them to get caught. But there’s only the sound of the nighttime bugs and the water lapping up against their skins.

“You made it,” Keith jokes, knocking his shoulder against Lance’s. The steam from the heated water curls Keith’s hair at the tips and the soft glow from the pool lights softens his face.

“I’m not on the swim team for nothing, you know,” Lance jokes, swirling the water around in front of him. Through the ripples, he can see the dark fabric of Keith’s underwear and he looks away. 

“I know. I saw,” Keith says absently. 

Lance is momentarily shocked. “You were there?” 

Keith turns his head away. Pushes off from where he’s sitting and treads water in the middle of the pool. He dunks his head for a moment and when he comes back up, he slicks his hair out of his face to expose the wide berth of his forehead. “Shiro was there cause of Adam,” he explains. But his cheeks are pink. “He made me come along,” he finishes, but Lance can see how he’s trying to hide his slip up.

Lance bites his lip, pushes off of his perch and swims up to Keith. “You saw my heat?” he asks with a grin. Keith nods, reaching out and pulls Lance to him. Lance wraps his legs around Keith’s waist, brings them closer together. He wraps his arms around Keith’s neck. 

“I saw you win,” Keith tells him, moving to the shallow end. He stops before emerging them fully, keeps Lance buoyant against him. “Saw you in your little blue panties,” and there, that’s the Keith he’s used to. “Like the ones you’re wearing now."

“They’re not _ panties. _ They’re _ briefs_, christ. Didn’t you wear them when you were a kid? _ ” _and Lance laughs a little between them. “Plus, the speedos are the regulated swimming attire for races.”

“Shows off a lot, though,” Keith muses. His hands sweep down Lance’s back, tracing the soft give of his muscles. “Kinda liked it,” and he’s tilting his head, advancing. “Liked it a lot,” he says right before sealing their mouths together. 

Lance tangles his fingers in Keith’s long hair. Gives it a tug and Keith grunts, and this close, there’s the interested twitch of Keith’s cock against the curve of his ass. 

Keith walks them to the wall of the pool, presses Lance’s back against the tiles. The water laps up his chest, splashes a little between them. Keith chuckles and dips his head, nags at Lance’s neck with his mouth. Lips and tongue and teeth. He latches on and sucks.

Lance grunts, squeezing his legs tighter around Keith’s waist in reflex. His hands grip at Keith’s shoulders and back, digs his nails in and it only makes Keith suck harder, swirl his tongue a little more insistently against the skin under his ear.

“You’re—” and he clamps down on his bottom lip when Keith’s teeth detach away from his neck with a sharp sting. 

Keith hums, inspects the side of Lance’s throat. “That’s a good one,” he says, pressing his thumb there. It hurts— _ throbs _and Lance groans, rutting against Keith’s stomach. “Everyone’s gonna see,” he mumbles, nipping under Lance’s jaw as he throws his head back. “Marked up and pretty.” He licks down over the jut in Lance’s throat. “I should make a collar of bruises,” he says, voice soft and contemplative. “Let them know you’re owned.”

“K-Keith,” and Lance thinks of his reputation. He’s a good kid—really! Good grades, never late to class. He’s funny and cheery and has lots of friends, but that’s…

At the end of the night, Keith is the only one who’s texting him, laughing with him, as they stream movies and tv shows and cartoons while video chatting with him. He’s seen Lance panic before a test, helped him study. And Keith isn’t a slouch, either. He’s right there with Lance in all their subjects, knowledgeable and patient, and his reward system has left Lance with the best grades he’s had all year.

Lance slides his tongue into Keith’s mouth, licking at the ridge of his teeth, sucking on his lip. 

“You like that?” Keith asks, hands squeezing at Lance’s hips under the water. “Me owning you?” He eases the elastic band of Lance’s briefs down over the swell of his ass, grips one of his cheeks and pulls, and the warm water rushes up and in and over Lance’s hole. His finger traces over the rim in small circles, barely dipping in.

“Y-yes,” Lance stutters, and his cock twitches hard between them. Keith must feel it because he smirks, hand coming around and cupping his cock. “Take,” and he swallows when his voice catches. “Off, take them off, Keith Keith,” he chants already squirming.

“Here?” And Keith looks around dramatically. Lance’s face heats and he tries to hide his face, but there’s nowhere to go. Nothing can stop Keith from seeing him like this: out in the open, panting, so slutty and wanton, and this is as close to danger as Lance has ever been.

“And you say I’m the delinquent,” but his hands are quick, sliding Lance’s briefs off his legs, pulling back for a moment, the water swirling between them, but he’s moving back in, pushing it away, pressing close and Lance’s bare cock comes into contact with the hardsoft ridges of Keith’s abdomen and he nearly loses it. “You’re breaking all kinds of indecency laws here, goody-two-shoes.”

“I might have a wild streak a mile wide,” he manages to huff. His arm reaches down and under, struggles with Keith’s boxers, somehow gets him out with all the wet fumbling and there—right there—the head, smooth and soft and insistent presses against his hole.

“Maybe you do,” Keith agrees. “Maybe you do,” he repeats. His arm disappears under the water and Lance can feel his fingers ringing under the crown, pressing up against his cheeks, the head bullying its way inside. 

Lance gasps, bites his lip hard to keep himself from crying out. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Keith grits. “Don’t push me out,” he pants, one hand on Lance’s hip, the other braced against the edge of the pool. “That’s it, good. You’re doing so good,” and Lance shivers at the praise, spine going liquid and the muscles around his hips relax. “When I’m done fucking you this first time, we’re gonna do this in a bed and I’mma spread you wide open and eat you out until you come on my face and then I’ll fill you up all over again.”

Lance’s skin puckers, heats. He bites the inside of his lip, hands gripping at the roots of Keith’s hair—it must hurt, but when Lance checks, Keith’s face is flushed and hungry so Lance just keeps on, keeps hurting Keith sweetly—like how he’s hurting Lance.

“Hold on to me if you need to—”

“God, Keith— fuck—!”

And Keith’s bottoming out, the top of his balls pressing against Lance’s ass. 

He gives Lance a moment to come back to himself, to adjust, and when Lance flutters his eyes open, Keith is looking at him, appraising. “Ready?”

All Lance can do is nod, squeeze his thighs around Keith’s waist. His voice is lodged in his throat, tight and heavy. Keith leans in and kisses his forehead, ducks down and kisses Lance softly. He slowly draws his hips back. The deep drag of it inside makes Lance suck in a breath and when Keith pushes back in, it forces all the air from Lance’s lungs. 

“Hurts, it hurts, Keith,” he whines, his toes curling in the water, hands clenching against Keith’s shoulder blades. 

“I know,” and he’s peppering kisses over Lance’s face. “I know, baby, easy,” he croons, hand coming down and rolling Lance’s cock, soft now, in his hand. “Look at me,” Keith calls. “I want to see your face.”

Lance lifts his lashes, eyes locking with Keith’s. They’re dark, the pupils wide and black, devouring the twilight glitter of his irises. His cheeks are flushed a rose pink.

“Look at you,” Keith says, thumb rubbing under the head, over the slit. His thumb glides over the tiny hole in his cock, precome easing his touch. “Taking my cock on the first go,” Lance shakes his head, tries to say _ no _— “Yes,” Keith presses, rests his forehead against Lance’s and forces him to nod along. “Your hole must be stretched so wide.” Keith’s hand starts stroking, coaxing Lance’s cock back into hardness. “What a wild thing.”

He steps closer, trapping Lance’s cock between them, and belatedly, he realizes that he’s fully hard again. 

“What a wild, sweet thing you are.”

Both of Keith’s hands are on his hips. “Gonna fuck you now, baby. Hold on,” and Keith pulls back, whips his hips and Lance’s hand flies to his mouth to bite down on his knuckle to keep himself from screaming the neighborhood awake. 

Keith moves in and out of him in an easy undulation, the water sloshing against their bodies. The tops of Lance’s shoulders scrape a little against the edge of the pool but that’s nothing compared to the bright burn of Keith’s cock fucking into him. 

It turns good, fast, Keith stroking just right, deep and slow, the angle just right—and really, for Lance’s first time with someone, he’s heard worse stories. Keith keeps making these growling noises in the back of his throat. His hands spasm every so often around Lance’s hips, his nails digging in. Lance thinks he knows what Keith wants. Wants it himself.

“Faster,” he whimpers out. Keith shoves into him, hard, and Lance keens, but Keith is there, smothering over the sound with his lips. 

“Can’t, I’ll get rough,” he breathes, smoothing his hand down Lance’s side. “You feel too good,” he pants. Stills. Lance squirms as he’s filled close to breaking.

“Please,” he begs, rolling his hips as much as he can while still being pinned. Keith’s lashes flutter, and he rolls his forehead against Lance’s. His eyes are searching his face. 

Keith pulls them away from the wall, walks over to the shallower end, still inside. Lance holds onto him, the hair on his arms rising as the cool air hits his warm skin. Keith leans him against the short steps, gets onto his knees in the water. Lance floats up and he stretches his arms back to brace against the lip of the pool. 

Keith grunts, nods. Grits his teeth, and Lance’s entire body goes taut. 

“So good for me,” Keith whispers before he’s pulling almost all the way out, the head of his cock just inside, and slides back home. He builds up a rhythm, slow at first, and Lance wants to complain, but it catches him off guard—one moment the water ripples over him, and the next, it’s sluicing over his chest and torso. Keith has his legs hooked over the bend of his elbows, holding his thighs open. 

Lance whines, high in his throat behind his teeth. He bites down on the tip of his tongue and braces one arm above his head. He reaches down and starts to touch himself, short quick tugs and Keith hunches over him, presses his legs higher up his chest. The angle sharpens, deepens, and Keith skates right across his prostate and Lance does shout this time, one, keening cry—

And Keith is slamming his mouth against Lance’s, fucking him through his orgasm. He swallows down the sounds, nips at Lance’s lips. Kisses at the corner of his mouth as Lance calms down. 

Keith is still rock hard inside, his breathing labored. 

“Do it,” Lance pants, squeezing at Keith. He grunts, fingers digging into his hip for a brief moment. “Do it until you come, too,” he tells him.

Keith’s eyes bore into his own, dark and lit up with the reflection off the water. 

It only takes a few short thrusts and Keith is pulling out, pulling off hard and fast, his fist nearly a blur and he’s coming, hot and thick, over Lance’s exposed chest. Some of it gets washed away by the water, but most of it sits against his skin like a brand. Keith shudders, one last spurt dribbling out weakly to plink into the pool, and he lets out the most satisfied sigh. 

He leans down and kisses Lance, quick and clumsy. 

Lance flinches when he hears a shout, and his eyes snap open to see the patio lights flood on. Fear races through his veins and Keith’s laughing, tugging him up and out of the water. Lance’s dick slaps against his thigh and he’s grabbing his clothes, jamming his feet into his chucks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Keith didn’t even try to get dressed, is already at the fence, bright skin against the shadows. 

Keith throws his clothes over, the weighty sound of it hitting the bushes on the other side, already kneeling so that he can boost Lance over. As he’s scrambling over the wall, he has a mortifying realization that he’s free-balling it—that his fucking briefs are still floating in the pool. In Iverson’s pool. 

Keith hisses a sharp _ Come on! _ and Lance tears off after him, skin still wet, come still on his chest, with Keith’s bright laughter echoing all around him in the dark. 


End file.
